


When We Were Acolytes

by InterNutter



Series: When We Were Us [9]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, baby twins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-07 03:19:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12832212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InterNutter/pseuds/InterNutter
Summary: Asshole laws have loopholes. The Twins join the Church of Oghma. But some difficulties are encountered.





	When We Were Acolytes

They were in their thirties, and there had been a crackdown on street kids. Even half-starved, they had baby faces, so the two of them found the nearest loophole in the Temple of Oghma. Acolytes were exempt from the local Watch rounding them up as prisoners.

It was an asshole law that made it illegal to be homeless without actually giving any kind of home to those who were. And the churches and monasteries had never been so crammed.

Koko knew he owed Oghma a solid, so he took the acolyte status a lot more seriously than others. He did his best to learn. He tried his hardest to fulfil the daily duties.

It was the year that Lulu and Koko both learned about something called  _ dyslexia _ . In their case, language-specific dyslexia. When one twin was using Koko’s amber witch-eye glasses, they had a better time at copying the Elven texts put in front of them. While the other suffered and squinted at what they perceived to be dancing figures.

They were fine with Common. They could even copy Dwarven without any trouble. But the instant they were given an Elven text, they couldn’t keep the sigils straight.

Koko’s attempted copy-work was the worst. Elven sigils would turn up on his page upside-down, back to front, tangled in others. He lived in perpetual fear that the house of Oghma would throw them out because of it.

Until the local Archdeacon called them in.

Koko was a nervous wreck. He twisted his stress-curls into ropes as he waited with Lup in the halls. She had to have caught some of his nervous energy, but she could make her hair do what she liked, most of the time.

This was it. They were going to get tossed out into the street. His memorisation wasn’t good enough. His copying wasn’t up to their high standards. He couldn’t fucking read fucking Elven. And wherever they threw Koko, Lulu was destined to follow.

Always picking up after her idiot brother. Always picking up Koko from whatever mess he’d dumbed himself into.

“[You can stay if you want,]” he said, just for her. “[I’ll know where you are and everything. I’ll come back for you.]”

Lulu said, “[Don’t be silly. We’re a unit.]” She gripped his hand tight. “[You can’t rest without me, you big baby.]”

The Archdeacon called them in, and they went with hands gripped tight.

“Ah yes. The Chaos Twins. I’ve had a number of complaints about you. About your eyes being unlucky. About your cooking somehow violating our vows. About the way you insist on sharing a cell.”

“Womb mates, room mates,” said Lulu.

“Gonna share a tomb mates,” warbled Koko, barely audible.

“Do you know what I say to these complaints?”

Koko was too busy trembling to shake his head.

“I say, ‘go fuck yourself’. For all the disruptions that happen around you… you two have a…  _ useful _ quality that makes up for the abundant evidence of ignorance. Witch eyes are no more or less unlucky than blue ones. Or brown. The superstition feeds a self-fulfilling prophecy, and most Elf children with witch eyes die young. The fact that you have reached this age tells me that you are both very clever. And we need clever people in Oghma’s house.”

“We’re not getting chucked?” said Koko.

“But… we can’t copy.” Lulu looked to her brother. “Not very well.”

“You can teach,” offered the Archdeacon. “You can even create. And I do wish you would start by teaching the kitchen staff what herbs and spices are for.”

They spent two years in Oghma’s kitchens, bringing the humble fare up to restaurant standards. And teaching everyone how to cook non-standard food. They’d been on the road and into places that regular surface-dwellers didn’t go. And they could never afford to be picky in their lives, so they took anything that was edible and made it delicious.

Of course, it didn’t last. Nothing had been permanent in the twins’ lives since they were twelve. Nothing except each other.

The government took a dim view of poor people enjoying anything, and legislated the twins out of a good gig.


End file.
